The Dome Shattered
by annetteperras
Summary: This story takes place in the canon universe, and chronicles the moment from when Peeta was captured (in the area after Katniss shattered the dome) to when he was rescued in the Training Center by Gale and the team from District 13. Trying to fill in some holes that other stories have! Torture, hijacking, etc. Please provide feedback on how you want the story to continue!
1. Chapter 1

The dome shattered.

I didn't know that the top of the arena could fall apart.

Debris started raining down. Sparks flew from split wires that dangled toward the forest floor where I stood. _Where the hell is Katniss?!_ I started running back toward the lightning tree, which seemed to be right under the epicenter of the dome's destruction.

"Katniss!" I shouted, running around a large sheet of metal that had fallen in my path. I could feel smaller pieces of the wreckage bouncing off of my shoulders. The forest floor seemed to be covered with shards of a busted mirror.

That's when I heard the unmistakable sound of a hovercraft, and felt strong gusts of wind pushing me backwards. I shielded my eyes as more debris started blowing into my face. Peering around my arm as best as I could, I pushed forward toward the tree. "Katniss!" I screamed again, but I could barely hear my own voice over the sounds of metal screeching. I felt a few shards of debris slice my raised arm. Some found their way to my exposed neck. They prickled, like how it felt to nick myself while shaving.

"Peeta!" I turned to see Johanna a few yards to my left. She had just emerged from darkness of the trees, and she was holding a knife in her stained red hand.

"Where's Katniss?" I demanded, and I charged toward her without caring that I was unarmed. I would snap her neck with my bare hands.

"Stop right there!" Johanna warned, raising her knife and taking a defensive stance.

"Who's blood is that?!" I roared. "You were with her last!"

Johanna rolled her eyes. "I cut her tracker out, asshole. Now they can't find her."

"How do I know that can I trust you?"

Johanna opened her mouth to respond, but instead her eyes rolled back and she immediately fell to the ground at my feet. I saw the dart in her spine first, before looking up to see a Peacekeeper aiming a gun at me from about 50 yards away. I unconsciously expected to hear a canon go off to count Johanna's death. But it was a dart, not a bullet, so she was probably just unconscious. I wanted to run, but I couldn't leave her to be captured. I glanced back at the Peacekeeper who raised his left hand in the air as a signal, which prompted more soldiers in white to begin pouring out of the trees.

I grabbed Johanna, quickly tossing her over my shoulder and turning to run. The wind whipped around me, which made it hard to make any real progress forward, but I was powered by the fear of being captured. I only made it a few strides before I felt an excruciating pain in my thigh right above where they amputated my leg after the first Games. The nerves that were connected to the wires in my prosthetic fried, and I cried out as I fell forward onto the ground, taking an unmoving Johanna with me. The pain in my thigh continued in pulses and I realized that I was being electrocuted by my own prosthetic. _How did they do that?_

I was lying face down, clenching my teeth tightly as I tried to ride out the shocks. I could see white boots running toward me, but I couldn't move. I couldn't fight the spasms that rang again through my thigh and up the rest of my body. "That's enough!" I heard someone say, and the shocks stopped, but I still couldn't move.

I was hoisted off the ground by two Peacekeepers, one of either side of me, gripping my arms to support my dead weight. "We've got Mellark and Mason," a Peacekeeper in front of me spoke into a device. Two other Peacekeepers had lifted Johanna from where I had dropped her.

I felt my arms being forced behind my back and cuffed, but the electrocution had left me too dazed to fight back. It only occurred to me to struggle when it was already too late. "Calm down or we'll shock you again," the Peacekeeper to my right muttered as they pulled me along toward a platform that was descending from the sky. Now I noticed the hovercraft. They were taking us to the Capitol.

"Katniss, run!" I shouted back toward the trees, hoping that if she were close she would hear my warning. _Smack._ My neck twisted and I tasted blood in my mouth.

"Shut it," a Peacekeeper growled, "I'll break your jaw." My eyes looked past the Peacekeepers toward the lightning tree, desperately searching for Katniss. I didn't know what to make of not seeing her. Was she hurt? Was she captured? Or was she dead?

Johanna was still unconscious, but when they loaded her onto the platform I could see that they had cuffed her, too. They laid her down on her stomach, and a Peacekeeper pointed a gun at her head. When they got me onto the platform they forced me onto my stomach in the same position. A Peacekeeper pressed his boot into my neck, making it hard for me to breathe. I felt the barrel of a gun press against the back of my head.

"Let's move," I heard, and the platform started ascending. Wanting to take advantage of the birds eye view of the arena, I struggled against the boot at my neck. The Peacekeeper who had been standing over me slammed the butt of his rifle into my jaw. "Stay down." He pressed his boot into my neck harder until I felt my head swimming with the lack of oxygen.

The platform loaded us into a hovercraft. Once inside, it was extremely dark minus the sickly green glow of lights lining the floor. I felt the boot finally release my neck and I inhaled air greedily. I turned my head to see Johanna still lying beside me, but she was starting to blink slowly. I wasn't sure if she was really seeing me, and didn't have much time to decide because we were both hoisted back off of the platform. They push us into seats, and secure our cuffed hands behind us. I give it an experimental tug and find that our wrists have been strapped to hooks behind us. I see Johanna across the aisle from me, still blinking slowly, right before a black bag is pulled over my head.

My thoughts go to Katniss and the end of the last Games. Even though Snow had been furious over our trick with the berries, the situation was so diplomatically handled. Snow visited Katniss in 12 in order to threaten her to keep the act of loving me alive, but I did not see this side of things until later. I had been so grateful to be alive and to have reciprocated love. I had been so stupid.

It was clear from the way the Peacekeepers were handling us that there would be no diplomacy this time. _They have to have their winner._ But it certainly wasn't me and Johanna. What had shattered the dome? Why were they removing us? Johanna and I were so close to killing each other – why hadn't they just let that happen? Where were Beatee, and Finnick, and Katniss?


	2. Chapter 2

When the bag was removed from my head, I was nearly blinded by the brightness of the room. I squeezed my eyes shut involuntarily and felt myself be shoved forward. I stumbled, my arms still cuffed behind me, stopping myself from tripping by letting the wall catch me. The sound of compressed air was followed by the sound of a keypad, and finally a bolt. I forced myself to open my eyes and blink past the black spots in my vision in order to see what the hell was going on.

Like Peacekeeper uniforms and President Snow's signature color, everything was white. The lights were so bright on their own, and reflecting off of the walls made everything seem whiter. I was standing in a small room, maybe three by five feet, with all glass walls that reached up to the ceiling. It was a really small, completely exposing cell. I'm assuming that the blinding lights was to prevent anyone here from getting much sleep.

This cell was part of a larger room. The room was a square, and there was one cell in each corner, surrounding a much larger, open space. _Like a mini arena,_ I thought darkly.

I could see Johanna in the cell to my left, slumped on the floor. "Johanna!" I called, wishing my hands were free so that I could knock on the glass to draw more attention to myself. "Johanna!"

She looked up at me with a shrewd grimace. "Going to accuse me of killing your fiancée?" She rolled her eyes and looked away. "You know what? Fuck it. I don't care at this point."

"Seriously, Johanna, please." I pleaded. "Is she alive?"

Johanna's eyes moved around the room, checking for surveillance. There were several blinking red lights along the ceiling, probably indicating cameras. She simply looked at me but did not indicate any answer. I desperately wanted to push her, but knew I would get nothing out of her at this point. She didn't think it was safe to confide anything. During the games it was clear that our allies had been keeping secrets from us. Apparently that wasn't over, even outside of the arena.

"Do you know where we are?" I asked, figuring that nothing bad could come of that answer.

Johanna glared at me, clearly annoyed. "Not really. But I'm guessing that those straps behind you aren't for kinky bedroom fun." It occurred to me that I hadn't even turned around, so I looked behind me to see the straps Johanna was talking about. There were a few sets of them attached to the wall behind me, clearly intended to wrap around wrists.

I took a deep breath and a shiver ran through me.

Turning back to Johanna I asked, "What happened to the arena?" Her eyes were looking around the room again, slowly. She seemed completely calm.

"Boom," she said, eyes drifting back to me. "That's the simple way to put it."

"Did you see it? Why would the Capitol do that?"

Johanna rolled her eyes again. "Look. Any minute now, Peacekeepers are going to come ask the same questions. And I'm going to tell them the same thing I'm telling you – I. Don't. Know."

"I don't believe you."

"They won't either," she muttered, staring down at her feet, which were cuffed. I briefly wondered why they had tied off both her wrists and ankles.

I arched my back in an attempt to relieve my shoulders, sore from my shoulder blades pinching together as my wrists were still cuffed together behind my back. I swallowed hard against my sandpaper throat, dry from hours without water and also from screaming Katniss's name.

We waited for what felt like several hours. I paced my tiny cell, looking around for any signs of where we were. I guessed it was in the Capitol, but I really had no way to be sure. Johanna shut her eyes and seemed to doze off for a while. I remembered what she said in the arena. _They can't hurt me anymore._

I, on the other hand, had a lot of people to protect.

The transparent door across the room slid open and in marched four Peacekeepers. They walked straight through the center of the room, clearly approaching my cell. When they reached the door, one of them commanded, "Against the wall, tribute." I obliged, taking a few steps back.

The Peacekeeper placed his hand in front of the keypad and seemed to trace a design, causing that compressed air sound and my door to slide open. "Step out of the cell."

When I hesitantly walked forward into the center of the room, two Peacekeepers grabbed me, one on each arm. The third Peacekeeper turned to lead us out of the room, while the final Peacekeeper followed me. "Where are you taking me?" I asked, but was only given a shove forward from the Peacekeeper behind me. I anxiously looked over my shoulder at Johanna before they pushed me through the door. She was watching with a grave expression.

They walked me down a long, white hallway before turning into a new room. One of the walls was entirely made up of screens, underneath which there was a long panel of buttons and switches being operated by men and women in white uniforms. My eyes quickly scanned all of the screens, anxiously taking in what I saw. Districts on fire, the view of from the dashboard of Capitol Hovercrafts, citizens in the Capitol hurrying around in little crowds while waving their hands animatedly, and finally, of course, several feeds from the arena.

Thread, the Peacekeeper who had been stationed in District 12 right before the Quarter Quell's Reaping, looked up from a small group who seemed to be in the middle of discussing something. He waved them away, and then came over.

"This is your chance to save your skin. And I mean every word of that," Thread said, his eyes searching me up and down. "Get him a prisoner's uniform," he barked to an Avox in the corner. Turning back to me he continued, "Who was in on it?"

"In on what?" _Smack._ Thread had punched me across the jaw. My head whipped sideways as I caught my breath.

"Don't be cute."

I turned back slowly. "I don't know what you're talking about." _Smack._ His fist again. I tasted blood.

"Cue up the footage," he ordered someone at the desk as he grabbed me by the throat and directed me head toward a screen. "Now watch this, loverboy, to jog your memory." And I immediately forgot about where I was or what was happening because she was on the screen.

 _Katniss was pointing an arrow at Finnick, ready to shoot. "Katniss," Finnick pleaded, his hands raised in surrender. "Remember who the real enemy is." After a long minute of staring, Katniss began to lower her arrow._

 _But thunder growled, and Katniss and Finnick both jerked their heads up to see clouds forming above the tree. "Katniss..." Finnick looked terrified. "Get away from that tree!" But she was wrapping Beatee's gold coil around her arrow and aiming up at the sky. She looked right at the camera and fired her arrow just as lightning struck the tree. Katniss screamed as she was blown back and the feed went dark._

Tears were streaming down my face as a stared at the screen in shock. Thread had not released my throat and had not stopped staring directly into my face the entire time. "What did Odair mean?" he barked, bringing my attention away from the dark screen and back to him.

"Is she dead?" I choked out.

Thread squeezed my throat menacingly and shook me. He lifted me off of the ground. I could feel myself running out of air. "What did Odair mean?"

"IS SHE DEAD?!" I screamed through the strangulation with some hidden strength that I summoned from deep inside. "IS KATNISS DEAD?!"

Thread's lip curled and he threw me down. The other Peacekeepers caught me and kept me on my feet. "Yes, loverboy. The girl on fire burned up."

It's a good thing that Peacekeepers were holding me, because I felt my legs give out. I couldn't see where I was anymore...I went somewhere dark, all voices and noises becoming vague and foggy. I felt like I was underwater, everything blurred and muffled.

"He's done today. Get him back in his cell."

They dragged me back down the hall to the white room, and before locking me back into my cell they unlocked my wrists. "Put this on," one instructed, shoving a simple pair of pants and a shirt into my arms. Then they pushed me inside, where I immediately dropped it all.

"What happened?" Johanna asked from her cell across the room. When I didn't answer, she pressed. "Hey. Bread boy. What happened in there?"

I stared down at the clothes on my floor, seeing them lose shape as tears filled my eyes. "She's dead," I barely whispered.

"How do you know?"

"They showed me."

"Peeta..."

Rage enveloped me. I began beating on the walls, screaming nonsense, and ripping at my own hair, skin. "GODDAMNIT!" I yelled, slingly a tray of food that had been left into the door of my cell. "I'LL KILL YOU, SNOW!" I bellowed at the closest blinking red light I could find.

"Don't be stupid!" Johanna screamed over at me. "They're lying."

"I SAW IT!"

"Peeta..." Johanna said more quietly. "Don't be stupid," she said again more suggestively. "They're lying."


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you for all of the feedback! Please do continue! Sorry it took me a little while to update. Don't worry - I plan on finishing this story! I'm just on the road a lot right now and find it hard to squeeze in a moment to write. Your comments motivate me a lot, so keep them coming!

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" _They're lying."_

I didn't get a chance to ask what Johanna meant. The moment those words left her mouth a couple of Peacekeepers swarmed the cell and dragged her out into the center. As one Peacekeeper held her cuffed arms by the elbows, she drew her legs up and delivered a powerful kick to the chest of another, knocking him back. I guess that's why they had restrained all of her limbs. She was a fighter. The one who had been holding her threw her down in the center of the room and kicked her in the stomach. Johanna laughed in between gasps for air, looking defiantly up at her assailant.

"Stop it!" I shouted, beating against the door to my cell as I watched. Why were they being so much rougher with her? If only I could break this door open, I could rush the Peacekeepers and tackle the other to the ground.

"Enough!" Thread had entered the room amidst the clamor. He stood over Johanna with a look of determined disgust. "Put her in the collar," he ordered, and then glanced over at me.

The Peacekeeper that Johanna had kicked had been wielding something when he entered the room. It looked like a collar attached to the end of a long pole, like I've seen used on feral animals before. I could barely stand to watch. He thrust the collar around Johanna's neck and tightened it, holding her away from them at the end of the pole, her limbs still bound. Thread was still watching me. He looked like he was calculating something.

Thread motioned to the soldier. "Get her up."

The Peacekeeper raised Johanna up forcefully by the neck. She struggled to keep up with the pace while her limbs were bound, shakily pushing herself up on her feet with what must have taken a lot of core strength. The Peacekeeper held her neck up a little too high, forcing her to sway unsteadily on her toes.

Thread nodded approvingly at his colleague and began the questioning. "Tell me what you know."

Johanna somehow managed to spit pretty far, and although she didn't hit anyone, the insolence wasn't appreciated. Thread produced a taser. "That's two strikes, tribute." He get close to her face, hovering the taser close to her neck, which she unfortunately could not move away with the other Peacekeeper holding her fast. "I heard what you said to Mellark. You have information that I'm going to get. You can either give it to me, or I can take it from you."

Johanna growled. "You've already taken everything from me. There's nothing left."

Thread shoved the taser into her neck, and Johanna trembled violently in the electric current. "NOOOO!" I yelled at the top of my lungs, thrusting my shoulder into the door in an attempt to break it down. It wouldn't budge. Threads eyes slid back over to me, and he removed the taser. Johanna began to crumple to the floor, but the collar device and the Peacekeeper holding it forced her to stay up.

"Let's try that again," Thread said loudly and turned his eyes back to Johanna. "Tell me who was in on the rebel plot."

 _Rebels?_

Johanna grimaced, but didn't answer. This continued for a few more rounds. Thread demanded information, but Johanna refused every time. She was smart. She didn't taunt or boast about her wealth of information, nor did she deny that she had any. She seemed to realize that she was going to be a punching bag whether she delivered or not. Maybe this was the fastest way to make it stop.

I hated to watch her be tortured, especially because Thread seemed to watch me most of the time. I hated that part of me wanted Johanna to break so that she would tell us all what she knew. My insatiable desire to know whether or not Katniss was truly dead stirred in me, and I found myself unable to reconcile the fact that I wanted Thread to get what he wanted. If he got information, so did I.

But there was guilt. Johanna had tried to comfort me as I nearly lost my mind, and in this moment of weakness she had revealed too much. Johanna had no one that she cared about – she had made that clear multiple times. But she was holding secrets that might keep my loved ones alive.

"Get the boy," Thread barked at the Peacekeeper who wasn't holding Johanna. The white soldier stormed toward my cell, drawing a pattern on the keypad rapidly, my door finally sliding open. I charged at him, aiming to tackle him, but he had a taser also. He shoved it into my stomach, and I instantly lost my ability to think.

"He doesn't know anything!" I heard Johanna exclaim as I was dragged by the back of my wetsuit from my cell. I was shoved down on my knees in front of a whipping post. My limbs felt limp from the taser and I could barely fight back as my wrists were secured to the side. I felt the upper half of my wetsuit being ripped open to expose my back.

I searched the room to see that I was facing Johanna and the other Peacekeepers. There were still holding her in the collar. Her neck was screaming red from the taser.

"I warned you about your skin," Thread's voice murmured close to my right ear as he circled behind me. "Alright, tribute," his voice directed toward Johanna's direction. "Tell me what you know, or it'll cost him his skin." He emphasized his point by resting the end of a flogger on my shoulder, the tails hanging down so that I could see the leather. It was strange to me that, with all of the technology available in the Capitol, Thread was utilizing such an arcane form of torture. The flogger was red, a striking contrast to the white pole I was strapped to.

Johanna's voice held strong. "I told you – he doesn't know anything."

"Yes, tribute, so then how do you know that?" I could hear in his voice that he was smiling. "You wouldn't be so sure if you weren't involved."

The first blow to my back was explosive. Even though I knew that the flogger was only but so big, the pain radiated up my spine in a hot, terrible wave. I couldn't stop myself from crying out in the surprise of the attack, my wrists cutting into the cuffs as I pulled involuntarily at the pole. Thread repeated the gesture twice more.

Johanna screamed at Thread. "Peeta was only there to save Katniss. You saw him volunteer at the reaping."

"Johanna, stop," I forced past my teeth. "He isn't going to believe you."

Thread laughed shortly. "You two need to get your story straight or I'll skin you both." I felt the flogger dragging along my back over injured flesh and winced as he dug in. "I'll break you sooner or later." Thread's voice was back at my ear as he leaned in close. "I'm hoping it's later."

Next, I heard his voice bark behind me. "Let's start with 20. But I want you to count, sweetie, because he owes you for them." I'm sure that was directed at Johanna.

Somewhere around 10 the pain reminded me of the poison fog, in the Quarter Quell; how it felt sizzling against my back. My memory flashed back to that moment. Katniss begging me to keep moving forward. She was in front of me, her olive eyes staring into mine. _"Please Peeta, run! Peeta, please! Stay with me!"_

And then she vanished.

I was hanging my head, wincing against the pole with each strike. I opened my eyes to see sprays of red on the floor. I could hear Johanna screaming and heard the unmistakable sound of the taser. It seemed to go on forever.

My chin was roughly grabbed and forced upward. My eyes snapped open to see Thread staring into my face, as intense as he had been in the room full of videos. He had this measured way of gazing, peering past my eyes into my thoughts. "You'll have to finish the count," he said matter-of-factly.

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What do you think happens next? Let me know your thoughts in the reviews, please! They are highly motivating for me to keep going :)


	4. Chapter 4

Finally, Thread stopped the flogging. He came around to face me, eyeing me with that calculating look as he slung excess blood off of the flogger onto the cell floor. He was standing over a drain. _Oh. That's what it's for._

I was breathing heavily; each breath catching because when my lungs filled with air my back expanded and contracted, irritating the shredded flesh. Nevertheless, I locked eyes with Thread.

"A lot of people think of Katniss Everdeen as being the one on fire, but I've always had my eye on you." Thread motioned to another Peacekeeper, who then began to haul an unconscious Johanna back to her cell. "You were the one with words. The mouthpiece." He leaned down closer to me and grabbed me by the throat. "I think you've got a lot more to say. You knowing nothing? I don't buy that for a second."

His hand released my throat. "We're finished here," he announced to the others. Someone released my wrists from the shackles and I immediately collapsed. I felt a guard on each side lifting my upper body so that my feet dragged the ground as they lead me back to my cell. They threw me inside, and I gritted my teeth hard to stifle a scream in pain when I hit the floor.

I think back to Gale, who Thread had beaten in the town square in District 12 before the Quarter Quell. And there's Katniss in front of me again. _You need a snow coat,_ she tells me and turns quickly away. _Don't leave me,_ I plead, reaching out to catch her shoulder and feeling pain rip through the flesh on my shoulders.

The door to my cell closed with the sound of pressurized air, and the Peacekeepers march out of the room. I saw an Avox enter, keeping their head down. He was pulling a hose with him, and he began to wash the blood from the floor. Red rivers swirled into the drain.

Johanna didn't talk to me, watching emotionlessly as they pulled me out each day into the middle of the room and applied various types of pressure to try and get me to cave. She didn't say one word, and part of me wondered if that's why they weren't bothering her. At all.

Between heated questions Thread and the other Peacekeepers would try to persuade me to give up information – information that I didn't have. The first day after the flogging, they used a high-pressured hose to spray burning hot water at my back while I was chained to the wall. The water scorched my mangled flesh, and my arms being stretched up over my head made the newly formed scabs reopen and bleed. I could see lots of red water around my feet.

The second day they plunged my head into ice water. In between demands for answers I was dunked to the point of nearly drowning. My back appreciated the break, but my hands and face suffered the excruciating prickle of frozen water.

By the third day I had not eaten anything and was running low on the energy to fight back. I had been so emotional and so reactive those first two days, feeling some sense of agency in my situation that had been an illusion. Now, as a uniformed soldier dragged me out of my cell, I blinked away spots to see Thread standing over me.

"How does food sound, Mellark?" He barked, and I felt a boot dig into my ribs. When I didn't answer he prodded again. "Come on, songbird, get those vocal chords singing," and then he kicked me hard in the stomach. When I didn't hold back a cry of pain, he smiled. "That's more like it. Get him up."

They dragged me out of the room, down the hall they had brought me through the first day that Thread showed me the video feed. I had a nagging feeling that I should look around and try to get my bearings, but I was so weak that my head hung and I stared at the front of the plain gray shirt they had given me and the red blood that was caked on.

I was set down in a chair, and I looked up finally to see that I was back in the room where I had watched the footage of Katniss blowing out the arena. Several of the screens were showing footage from other districts. I saw Peacekeepers escorting packs of workers, people painting over graffiti, happy Capitol citizens walking through the streets outside of Snow's mansion…it seemed like they were keeping pretty good tabs on everyone as screens flickered to different channels representing places and people all over Panem.

"We're ready," Thread told one of the people who sat in front of a row of buttons and screens. The attendant nodded and spoke into a headset, "Ready when you are."

I noticed a Peacekeeper on my left standing between the door and me. He pulled out a gun and trained it on me. Another positioned himself to my right in the same fashion. "He's not going anywhere," Thread smirked, looking down at my hands. I realized that they were trembling and quickly clenched them into fists to hide it.

The Capitol seal appeared on the largest screen before cutting to President Snow. He smiled at me from what looked like a position at his desk. "Good afternoon, Peeta," he said cheerfully, like we were meeting over tea and cookies. "I've arranged this meeting so that we can discuss how you can keep Ms. Everdeen alive."

I didn't bother to hide my hitching breath. "She's alive?" I hated how pathetic my voice sounded, cracking in a dry throat that hadn't spoken for almost a full day. My eyes flickered to Thread who sneered and nodded.

Snow gave me a sympathetic look. "Yes, and well. We've learned a bit more about her saviors, actually, and it might interest you to know that Ms. Everdeen is in District 13." The relief I had felt at the news that Katniss was alive turned into confusion, but Snow didn't wait for me to respond. "Yes, District 13. You heard me correctly. But she is no safer there than she would be here," he said darkly.

"What do you mean?" I couldn't help myself. I wasn't trying to play brave at this point. I had no idea that 13 still existed, and what kind of people were there.

"I don't want to lie to you, Peeta," Snow said genuinely. "The rebels in District 13 survived, and now they are leading a rebellion against the Capitol. But this is what happens when citizens of Panem are insolent."

Another screen flickered to a new video, a shot that looked familiar. It was a video feed of my home in District 12. Another cut showed my family's bakery. My father was outside, feeding the pigs. The video cut again to the sky where a cloud of Capitol hovercrafts approached, and then I saw it. I saw my family blown to bits.

I don't remember falling from the chair to my knees. I remember staring in disbelief at the screen as it showed fire and blood, some crowds of people fleeing in vain as another bomb dropped and they were destroyed, too. Bricks sprayed like confetti and fire engulfed the lens of the camera and the screen went black.

My face was wet with tears that I didn't remember producing. I don't remember breathing. I don't remember feeling. I was numb.

Snow spoke again. "And that's what will happen to 13, where your _wife_ is now, if you don't urge them to stop this nonsense." The screen showed Katniss, among the wreckage at 12.

I couldn't feel the floor beneath me. I thought about my brothers and my parents. I thought about Katniss's family.

Snow continued. "If Katniss is going to be their Mockingjay, you're going to be our Jabberjay."


	5. Chapter 5

Warning: This one is a little tough.

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I was yanked up out of the chair again after my conversation with Snow, who made it abundantly clear that he was going to have Katniss killed if I didn't come up with some way to get her and the rebels to stop what they were doing and surrender. He assured me that he recognized my ability to sway an audience, and he was sure that I would figure out a way to keep my wife alive.

"Oh, and one more thing," Snow said, and the Peacekeepers pulled me around to face the screen. "You'll have some visitors later. Don't embarrass me."

"You killed my family, you son of a -" I was interrupted and pulled into a tight chokehold by one of my guards. The other one reared back to punch me.

"Not the face," Thread barked, and shoved his comrade aside. He pulled a club from his belt and swung it into my stomach.

Again, the two Peacekeepers were pulling me back out of the room, but instead of turning down toward my cell, they went in the other direction. The news that Katniss was alive had given me a second wind of energy, despite my lack of food and hydration. It was ironic that I was dehydrated since I felt like I had swallowed a lot of water during my water boarding yesterday. I was so messed up from seeing my family explode that I didn't even care who Snow was sending to talk to me.

We stepped into a glass elevator and turned back toward the doors. Thread stood there on the other side of the doors. As they began to close he sneered at me, "Enjoy your vacation."

I watched darkly as he turned and went back down the corridor. He must be staying for Johanna.

As the elevator ascended I realized where I was - I was in the tributes' training center. Our cells must have been in the basement, right in the center of the Capitol. Now we rose above each floor and I could see the lobby for each district. As we passed each one I thought about the tributes that I had witnessed die over the past two years. I thought of 12 and the rumble that lay around my family's home. I thought about Prim, and wondered if Katniss knew. When the doors opened to District 12's suite at the top of the center, I felt cold. Haymitch was probably dead. What had happened to Effie? To Portia? Everyone else in the arena?

"You are to shower and eat. There are clean clothes for you in the bedroom," one of the Peacekeepers ordered, and they both pushed me forward. "You have one hour."

As the elevator closed and descended, I turned to see a platter of food on the table. I couldn't help myself - I lunged at it viciously, starvation taking over my instincts and nullifying my pride. I didn't care if there were cameras watching me. I felt more alone than I had in a long time, and I shoved bread and chicken into my mouth to combat my noisy stomach. I barely breathed through my meal, and I filled up faster than I anticipated. My stomach had shrunk with starvation. I knew I was probably going to get a stomach ache but I didn't care.

I was still weak from several days of not eating and also from the constant torture. The most recent blow to my stomach left me slightly hunched over, so I pulled the tray to the floor and continued to eat there. Weird how I was now so used to squatting on the floor. I laid there for a while after the meal to allow my body to process. My head swam, and I felt really warm from my metabolism waking up. It had food as fuel - it didn't need to deplete me of my muscles today. Still, the strength that I had built up before the Games was really waning. I felt shaky as I stood, my joints sore and aching from weeks on concrete.

Warm water spilled over me in the shower and it felt incredible. I don't know how long I just stood there, letting the water cascade over my sore muscles and torn skin as I shut my eyes and imagined that I was anywhere else. Imagined that I was with Katniss and my family. That we were all alive and together.

The clothes left out for me were simple: black pants and a white shirt. I began thinking again about Snow's last order. _You'll have some visitors later. Don't embarrass me._

 _What the fuck did that mean?_ Just then I heard the elevator ding. Had it been an hour already? I hurried out of the bedroom, grabbing a small lamp from the bedside table to use as a weapon.

"Who are you?" I demanded, eyes flickering between the two men who had appeared in my suite. The were both tall, muscular, and wearing almost all black. One was in a suit and the other in jeans and a sweater. They were both clearly wealthy; I had never seen anyone like this in 12. Yet they didn't look like typical Capitol civilians either. There wasn't any makeup or strange hair colors. The one in the suit had dark hair with small, blue eyes. The one in the sweater was blond.

"There's no need for that, Peeta," the one in the suit smiled and then gestured to the other. "This is Ross, and I'm Michael. We're arranged a visit with you via the ever generous President Snow."

The one in the sweater has walked over to the bar to make himself a drink. "What should I pour you, Peeta?"

I ignored him. "Why are you here?"

Ross glanced over at Michael and then resumed to pouring himself a bourbon. "So testy. You really should have a drink." He poured two more glasses, handing one to Michael before approaching me. He set the glass on a table between us, a peace offering. "Please, put the lamp down," he gave me a strange look, seemingly puzzled by the fact that I was being defensive.

"We arranged this visit because we're big fans of yours," Michael smiled warmly, swirling the amber liquid around in his glass, before taking a swig. "President Snow said that you could probably use some friends right now."

Ross nodded, taking a seat in a big leather chair that Haymitch used to slouch in. "Now that I see you, I _completely_ agree with President Snow. You don't look well-rested."

"They don't believe in sleep down in the basement." I responded, and then I felt it. A surge of electricity in my upper thigh, right above where my prosthetic was attached. I dropped the lamp in surprise. The only other time when I had felt that was in the arena when the Peacekeepers captured me and Johanna. But this time the shock was just a small fraction of that attack. It was like a short buzz - a buzz that hurt, but the feeling passed quickly.

"Are you feeling alright, Peeta?" Ross asked with concern. He set his glass down and had crossed the divide between us in a few strides. "Here, let me help you." He pulled me in his arms and started to walk me toward the couch. When I struggled against his grip the shock came back, this time with two zaps back to back.

"My leg," I murmured, catching myself against the back of the couch as my legs struggled to function.

"Shhh..." Ross urged, putting his arms back around me and practically moving me to the couch. I fell back into a seat heavily, grabbing at my thigh with both hands. Ross sat next to me and pushed the drink from before into my hands.

"Oh!" Michael gasped, pulling his hand slowly out of his pocket. He was holding a small device, about the size of keychain. "Is _that_ what this little gadget does?" His surprise seemed clearly false. "Wow - President Snow was right. This is _quite_ fun." And with that he clicked the small remote and my leg began to pulse with electricity again.

"Stop!" I grounded out between my clenched teeth and the shock faded away. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

Michael nodded approvingly at the little remote before putting it back in his pocket. "Oh, relax, I'm just messing with you," he teased, walking over to the bar. "Another drink, anyone?"

Ross looked at me with sincere brown eyes. "You'll want that drink." I eyed him suspiciously, my heart rate still elevated from the shocks to my leg. _Why would Snow give him that? Why didn't they just torture me in the cell? Why did he have me eat and shower just to continue the torture?_

Michael was now standing in front of me. "My friend told you to drink." He wasn't smiling anymore. I splashed my drink into his face and lunged for the pocket where he had placed the remote, but Ross had grabbed me almost just as quickly, wrenching my arms behind my back. My healing flesh screamed at the sudden movement. Michael licked his lips, tasting the alcohol that I had thrown in his face. He threaded a fist through my hair, pulling my head up to look at him. "Drink," he commanded, tipping his glass into my mouth. The bourbon burned, scorching my throat - I was still somewhat dehydrated. When I swallowed he released my hair, but Ross continued to hold my arms.

"See? That wasn't so bad," he assured me with a smile. "It's going to help, I promise."

"Help with what?" I asked, glaring up at Michael.

"Help you have fun," he answered, and then leaned down to kiss me.


	6. Chapter 6

Warning: Lots of whump.

* * *

I sank down to the bathroom floor, hearing glass crunch beneath my knees. There was a large chunk of the mirror on the floor, having been shattered when my head got shoved into it.

"You idiot, Snow had strict instructions about the face," Ross chided Michael who was splashing cool water on his face at the sink next to me. I could feel blood trickling down my temple from where the mirror had cut me. Ross knelt next to me and pressed a towel to my head but I flinched away.

"The prep team will clean it up," Michael shrugged. "Can you hand me my belt?"

Ross unwrapped the leather belt from around my wrists, which had been bound in front of me, and handed it over. He clicked his tongue, handing me my shirt from the floor. "It's a shame we had to be so rough, sweetie. I'll bring you a sedative next time. It'll be easier that way."

"I kind of like it when he fights," Michael turned around and leaned against the bathroom counter. He scratched at his chin. "There something visceral about it that I can't get with my wife."

"What about with me?" Ross asked, examining my wrists.

Michael placed his hand gently on Ross's shoulder, causing him to look up. "You make me into a romantic, baby. I _make love_ to you." Michael nodded in my direction. "I get to fuck _him_."

Ross kissed Michael's hand. "Let's be more gentle with him next time. If the prep team has trouble hiding the damage then Snow might not let us play anymore."

"What's the point of a whore if you have to be gentle?" Michael looked genuinely puzzled.

"We've got to leave soon. We've got that reservation at _Delphi's_ , remember?"

Michael pulled Ross to his feet and brushed some hair from his eyes. "Of course, babe. I'll have the car brought around."

They left quickly after that, murmuring goodbyes that I didn't process. I moved slowly off of the glass, careful not to cut my hands, and stood again. It felt strange to move without being grabbed roughly or shoved into the wall. It felt strange to have control over my current actions. I saw myself in the part of the mirror that wasn't broken. A dark bruise was developing over my right eye, and along the brow bone where I had been sliced with glass there was some halfway dried blood. I had fingerprint bruises wrapped around my neck, and a swollen bottom lip from when Michael had bitten me. My leg felt numb, and I vaguely wondered if my nerves had been fried for good from the prosthetic electrocution. That's when I heard the chirping of several voices, coming from the direction of the elevator. I saw Portia appear in the mirror behind me. I'm sure I would have been mortified if I could feel anything.

Her eyes immediately bulged. "Peeta! What happened?! Are you ok?!" I furrowed my brow, unsure of how to answer. She glanced around at the mess, my face.

Portia hurried over to me, careful to step over the glass, and took my hands in hers. She examined my wrists, and then glanced down at the smashed liquor bottle on the carpet. I could see her piece it together quickly, her eyes flicking back up to mine. They were wet with tears, but also brimming with resignation. This wasn't the first time she had seen something like this, but perhaps she was upset to see it happen to me.

Portia pushed her purse down onto the counter. "Shhhh, here, I've got something..." her voice shook like her hands as she pried open a small box. "Take this. Hurry. It'll help you forget." She picked up my hand again, gripping it tighter when I flinched, and pushed a pill into my palm. "Hurry. Before your brain processes what just happened." She grabbed a crystal glass from the counter and filled it with water from the faucet. "It'll be better if you can forget."

I drank the pill down with some water, hoping that what she was saying was true. "We'll clean everything. By the time you wake up it'll have all disappeared like a dream." Portia escorted me toward the bedroom, but stopped when she saw the tangle of sheets. There was another empty bourbon bottle on the floor along with the ripped remains of my clothes. Portia hurriedly turned me away from this sight and pushed me into the hallway. I didn't realize where she was taking me until I was lowered gently in a familiar bed. This was Katniss's room when we stayed here before both games. I remembered the green sheets.

 _"Stay with me?"_ I could hear Katniss's voice deep in the recesses of my memory. _"Always,"_ I had answered.

"You're safe now," Portia assured me. "When you wake up it will be gone."

I had not been safe for a long time, and I certainly wasn't safe now. But the pill was powerful, and I felt myself being sedated. I fought it at first, listening to the prep team scrambling around. They were gathering up the shattered mirror and the other debris littering the floor. Portia returned and sat next to me on the edge of the bed. I felt her pressing a wet cloth to my forehead and when I flinched she shushed me gently. "Don't fight it, Peeta. Get some rest now. I'm just cleaning your wound."

"Why did Snow want this?" I slurred.

"I don't know," she replied. "We were sent to prepare you for your interview with Caesar Flickerman. I had no idea that anything else was happening."

"I have an interview?" My eyelids fluttered for a moment but they were too heavy for me to keep open.

"You must calm the districts," Portia said earnestly. Suddenly I couldn't understand a word she was saying. It all sounded like another language, only slowed down, and then I must have passed out.

* * *

Portia's pill only blocked out parts. After the interview with Caesar, I was still extremely confused. I did a great job appearing completely normal for the camera. It was clear to me that something terrible had happened, and I did not think that screwing up the interview would make anything better for me or for Katniss.

After the interview I was sent back up the training tower immediately. I felt my heart rate increasing as the elevator climbed to the top floor, but I still couldn't place why. When the elevator doors opened, two Peacekeepers reached in and pulled me out into the parlor of District Twelve's suite. Thread was there, his lackeys holding me in place to face him, and he immediately slammed my jaw with his baton. A spray of blood shot from my mouth to the carpet. "Is that what you call a cease fire?" Thread yelled, this time swinging his baton into my stomach. I dropped to my knees, retching at the impact. "Answer me!"

"There's something you're not telling me," I said, but I had to repeat myself after Thread angrily grabbed my chin and said, "What's that, Mellark?"

"There's something you're not telling me!"

Thread snarled, leaning in and wrapping his fingers around my throat. "You are NOT in charge, here. You do what I tell you to do, no questions." Suddenly there was a flash back, and I thought I saw a blue-eyed blonde staring into my eyes instead of a Peacekeeper. He also had a grip on my throat, but he was saying, "You're either going to give it to me, or I'm going to take it."

Panicked, I looked around the apartment, but nothing looked awry. Thread squeezed my neck tighter, wrenching my gaze back to him. "Something more interesting going on? I can't imagine what." Then, over his shoulder he told one of his lackeys, "Shock him."

A bolt shot through my thigh as my prosthetic turned into a weapon against me again. I fell to all fours, crying out involuntarily in pain. "Oh, honey, don't be so rough," I heard a voice saying and for some reason I immediately knew it came from Ross. But who was Ross? I couldn't remember. Maybe if the shocks stopped I could think...

"Enough," Thread said and the pain subsided. He kicked roughly into the small of my back and I collapsed on the floor. "Cuff him," he instructed, and I felt my arms being pulled behind my back and secured tightly. "You're not going to eat today," he announced, his voice moving around the room as he circled me. "But you are going to perform. Get him up." I was lifted to my knees, and Thread was standing in front of me again.

"You disappointed President Snow twice today. First with your company, and then with that interview."

"What company?" I asked, earning a rough pull on my hair as Thread forced me head up to face him.

"You mean to tell me that you don't remember?" He asked skeptically. "Well, I bet your ass does."

Another flashback came, this time of my head being shoved into a mirror as my body was bent over a counter. My arms were outstretched in front of me, bound by a leather belt that had been wrapped tightly, several times. I look into the mirror to see the blonde.

"What did he do to me?!" My voice barely broke the volume of a whisper.

Thread ignored my question, but a cruel smile crossed his face. "You don't get to sleep tonight either. We'll see how disruptive you are when you're operating on no food or sleep." They hoisted me up and attached a chain to my wrists. In this position I would be forced to stand - if I dropped I would dislocate my shoulders, as my hands were cuffed behind my back.

"Your prep team will come in the morning to get you ready for your next client."


	7. Chapter 7

Warning: Lots of whump.

* * *

"What is this?! Let him down now!"

I wasn't really asleep or awake, having been chained in an upright position all night. I could tell by the daylight streaming into the room that the sun had set and risen again in the time that I was here, my arms strained behind my back and my legs weak from holding me up. I became lulled by the sound of silence, falling into a terrible cycle of insomnia and pain. While my body would drop quickly toward sleep, the chains would pull my arms back until my shoulders screamed in pain. Then the adrenaline would charge through me and I'd catch myself, relieving my arms for a moment but putting the pressure back on my legs. There was a clock on the wall, and I could see that they had left me here for 12 hours. After not sleeping an entire day prior, I was running low on fumes, barely able to combat the panic and pain that set in while I waited for someone - anyone - to come to my rescue.

I was startled from another lull by Portia's shrill voice, and Thread's response. "He's a prisoner, not a guest," he responded to her gruffly, but I felt someone grabbing my shoulders to stand me upright while the lock on the chains was released. "Watch your tone with me or I'll put you in there next," Thread warned Portia as I immediately collapsed to the ground, the world around me blurring and refocusing.

"Make him pretty," Thread ordered. "You've got 30 minutes." And the next set of hands on me were that of the prep team, their various perfumes and lotions overwhelming me with the scent of cinnamon and cloves.

When the prep team failed to lift me, two Peacekeepers shoved them away and hoisted me up. They pushed me into a chair, and I felt a sting in my neck. The world sharply focused as I grasped at the injection site, and I saw that Thread was sitting across from me. "That oughta wake you up," he remarked, motioning to my neck.

"Are you going to stay?" Portia made an effort to sound nonchalant, but I could see her casting worried looks to the rest of the team before looking down at me.

"You got a problem with that?" Thread retorted, his black eyes unmoving from mine.

"It's just unusual," Portia tried, brushing hair from my forehead. "That's all."

Thread's eyes finally slid over to Portia. "So is a prisoner forgetting an entire day. But apparently that happens," he ground out, looking back to me. "Why do you think that would happen, Mellark?" He made a show of placing a rod-like instrument over his lap. I've seen ones like it before in 12. It's supposed to be a cattle prod, but Peacekeepers have been using them against people in the districts for decades.

"I don't know," I answered honestly, similarly curious about the flashbacks I kept receiving. What had happened to me, and why couldn't I remember?

Portia looked as white as a sheet and she leaned down into my face to apply concealer under my eyes. "What event, exactly, are we preparing Mr. Mellark for?" She said to Thread without stopping the application of makeup.

"Oh, I think you know," Thread tilted his head slightly to look around Portia at me.

My arms were still numb, otherwise I would've shrugged, or at least gripped the arms of my chair. Instead they hung limply despite my thundering heartbeat. I glanced down at my wrists as one of the prep team lightly dusted powder to conceal my wounds. The marks were fresh where the handcuffs had dug into my skin all night, but I also had light yellow bruising several inches higher than the cuff marks, evidence of a different binding. I remembered a leather belt being wrapped around my wrists briefly before snapping back to reality when Portia responded to Thread. "I only know and do as I'm told," she sighed, squeezing my hand discreetly before heading over to the rack of clothes they had brought with them.

"Good girl," Thread sneered, keeping his eyes on me.

"I was thinking that we would bring out the blue in your eyes," Portia announced, waving at one of the prep team assistants to hold up a suit. It was dark blue with a light blue shirt. I nodded soberly, feeling quite awake but unable to shake the confusion between what was real and what wasn't. _His eyes are dreamy, aren't they, Michael?_ I heard a voice say in the back of my mind.

Thread continued to sit in that same chair while Portia instructed me to undress. My arms were still numb from a night of poor circulation, and Portia didn't miss my shaking fingers fumbling over the buttons of last night's interview attire. I could tell she didn't like Thread's presence but had absolutely no power to kick him out. She gently pulled my shirt off my swollen shoulders and eased my arms out one by one. I was trying my best not to wince too much because I didn't want to reveal my weakness to Portia. Or to Thread.

"Why aren't those bruises gone?" He demanded, motioning to my hips. I glanced down to see fingerprint sized bruises peppered around my hips, and for an unexplained reason I felt sick. "Part of your services are cleaning him up."

Portia quickly instructed her assistant to fetch a salve from her case. The assistant came over and began to apply the lotion to the affected areas, and I felt it warming on contact. "Just give that about 20 minutes and it will look as good as new!" Portia gave Thread a tight smile as she handed me a new pair of boxer briefs. I raised my eyes to Thread, unsurprised by the lack of privacy I was going to get. Still, I was grateful for new clothes and quickly changed.

"I can't believe I'm having to tell you how to do your job," the Head Peacekeeper rolled his eyes. "One more mistake like that and I'll send you to the basement with the other rebel." Portia visibly blanched but kept her lips in a firm line.

"It won't happen again, sir," she murmured as she passed me the pants for the suit. My legs still felt a little like jelly, but they weren't nearly as bad as my arms. My thigh, where the prosthesis met my amputated leg, was incredibly sore for having supported my weight all night. Portia's assistants were on either side of me, pulling the pants toward my waist while chattering to themselves about what color belt I should wear.

Portia was now helping me pull the dress shirt on, as my shoulders were still too painful to shrug on the garment, when a device on Thread's uniform began to buzz.

The Peacekeeper held up a finger to us, motioning that he needed a moment to take the call. He walked a few paces away and while he was distracted Portia pulled me close. She buttoned my shirt while urgently whispering. "Peeta - there's a pill in the breast pocket of this shirt. Take it after. It will help you forget..."

And then the sound of electricity as Portia's eyes rolled back. Thread was grimacing, jabbing the cattle prod into her neck again to force her to the ground. "I knew you were a lying bitch!"

"Stop!" I shouted, and Thread answered by sticking the cattle rod firmly into my ribs.

I saw stars and fell into the wall behind me. I could hear Portia's assistants scream, whatever they were holding clattering to the floor as they observed the violence. I blinked, stunned by the blow, as Thread dug his hand into my breast pocket and pulled out a small, white pill. He held up up between his fingers, squinting at it. "She used this to wipe his memory of yesterday. Get rid of it," he instructed one of the other Peacekeepers, who immediately took it to the toilet to flush away.

"What are you going to do with her?!" I ground out through my teeth that had clenched during the shock. Portia's assistants were now cowering in fear in the corner by the elevator, and Thread wrapped his thick fingers around my neck, effectively choking off my pleas.

"That's none of your concern. You've got one job today, and that's to be a fuckboy for the guests who are coming." These words slapped me harder than any physical blow that Thread could deliver. I had been receiving flashbacks from the last time this had happened. Portia must have given me a drug that wiped my memory. Well, most of it.

"Now, let me explain something to you, whore." Thread's face came closer to mine as he snarled angrily. "Last night you had an interview that was broadcast all over the Capitol. Your _suitors_ ," he paused on that word, digging his nails deeper into my neck, "were instructed not to mark up your face because it needed to stay camera-ready. That's not the case tonight because you won't have another interview for at least a week."

He let go of my neck, and I inhaled sharply and desperately. "You can't make me do this," I rasped, thinking of Katniss. _Stay with me,_ her voice echoed in my memories.

"Well I already have," Thread sneered. "Snow's making a lot of money off of you - unless," he drew out his tone sarcastically. "Unless you'd like us to replace you with Johana?" My heart sank at the thought. No one should be subjected to this. "Because all that matters is that we have a victor..."

"NO," I interrupted, bringing a joyless grin to Thread's face.

"With Odair MIA, you're a highly desired replacement." He threw the suit jacket at me. "Get dressed. They'll be here soon." What? Finnick had been...a prostitute? Suddenly his promiscuous behavior seemed more forced than flirty. He had to have been forced into it, like I was now being.

Thread paced around Portia, who was lying on the floor unconscious. "I knew you were way too - docile - yesterday," he directed at me, then snapped a finger and motioned for his lackeys to get Portia up. "What's the point of psychological torture if you can't remember it?"

"Please don't hurt her," I begged, too concerned for Portia's life to worry about how pathetic I felt, groveling to this monster. "She was just...cleaning me up," I pleaded desperately. "Making me presentable for the interview. There's no way I was going to act normal without that drug! Please."

Thread studied me as the Peacekeepers pulled Portia into the elevator. "Don't forget that you're a prisoner. You have no right to make any demands, Mellark. " He turned his attention to what was left of the prep team. "You've got 3 minutes to finish up." They clamored over to help me get my jacket on, smoothing my hair and straightening my collar. One of them dabbed some concealer along my jaw, probably to cover the bruise that was inflicted by Thread's baton last night.

"Alright, you're done," Thread commanded and the prep team fled into the elevator, eager to get the fuck out of this situation. He stuck the cattle prod into my chest, and I held my breath as I anticipated the shock. It didn't come, but Thread made it clear that I wouldn't be so lucky next time if I didn't please my "guests."


	8. Chapter 8

"What the fuck happened to you?"

The door to my cell had barely shut when I heard Johana's voice, and felt her eyes piercing the glass. My head was pounding with a migraine, and my jaw was sore. A memory flashed through my head of the hours that had just transpired. My latest "guest," Alastair, had forced me to my knees with that cruel device that sent electric shocks through my prosthetic. After slamming a baton into my jaw enough times, I didn't have the strength to fight off his advances.

The light in the prison was too bright. I squinted against them to look over at Johana in the adjacent cell. She looked relatively untouched since I had last seen her, and I was briefly grateful that Thread seemed to have held up his end of our deal. I doubted that Johana would be protected forever, but I couldn't turn my back on her safety. We only had each other at the moment, and we weren't sure if anyone was ever coming. In fact, for the sake of our friends and the districts, I think we had to hope that they wouldn't.

"Are you ok?" I asked her anyway, squeezing my eyes shut again against the glare of both the lights and Johana's eyes.

"I'm a lot better than you." She answered, salty. Her voice softened when she asked, "Where were you?"

I eased myself down to the floor, my prosthetic leg not bending very smoothly at the knee. It must be getting fried in the volts of the shocks. "They had me do an interview." My shoulders throbbed and I sighed deeply. "With Caesar Flickerman."

"What?!" Johana was now standing, her hands on the glass wall of her cell, facing me. "Tell me everything."

I massaged my temples while I recounted Caesar's questions about Katniss, the rebellion, and Snow's orders that I should call for a cease-fire.

Johana snorted. "So that's where you got the shiner. Of course you wouldn't call for a cease-fire." But her smirk faded when I didn't answer. "Peeta - what the fuck?! Why would you do that?!"

I winced against the volume of her shrill voice. The migraine pounded. "They bombed 12." I answered simply, the scenes from Thread's computers flashing through my head while I stared at my shoes. I had put the fiery district out of my mind for the past few days, my attention drained by other things.

Johana frowned, but shook her head. "Peeta - this is so much bigger than 12." She then caught herself, looking slyly at the cameras along the ceiling and around the rest of the cell block for lingering Peacekeepers. I knew she couldn't say anymore aloud without risking exposing her intel. She pursed her lips and glared at me, considering what she could say. Apparently she decided the topic was too dangerous, and she moved on. "When was the interview? You've been gone for days."

"We're in the training center," I told her, wrapping my arms around myself. "I was in the penthouse."

 _"Tell me you deserve it," Alastair's voice echoed in my head, and I felt his hand gripping my neck. With the other he stroked himself, grinning maniacally. I pulled at my restraints unsuccessfully._

"It doesn't look like you enjoyed your stay," Johana answered tartly, breaking my reverie. "And they wouldn't put you on tv with that mug, so I figure there's been more going on than interviews." She studied me as a held the back of my hand to my mouth. I could taste the blood still oozing from my split lip, so I was going to try to stop the bleeding. I didn't like the expression in her eyes as they moved around my body. I felt grateful that I was still fully dressed, mostly covered. I guess the Peacekeepers didn't see a point in taking the suit back, as it was already bloodied and ripped. Johana didn't have to say anything - I could see the puzzle connecting in her gaze. The cells were for torture, so what else would be going on in the penthouse?

"So Finnick is safe," she finally stated.

"Yeah," I answered curtly and looked away. I thanked her silently as, in my peripheral sight, I noticed her shadow move away from the glass and away from me.

* * *

I'm going to be interviewed again. As the day draws closer, my stomach grips in knots. They send in a medic who says nothing to me, but only applies various salves and examines my face. Thread stands guard with his cattle prod, and tells her that the bruising needs to clear up.

"It's on it's way," she assures him, placing the jar back in her house call kit. "It would improve with proper hydration and nutrition." She doesn't really prescribe it - it's more like she briefly mentions it with a small eyebrow raise at the bread lying on the tray on the floor.

"Yeah, well we're not running a spa," Thread snarls, and motions for her to leave the cell. He turns to me, a scowl on his face. "Snow wants you upstairs tonight." I can feel my face blanch. "Eat that now," he nods at the bread.

Air compresses and the door shuts behind them, locking me in once more. A shiver runs through me, and I glance over at Johana who is staring.

"Peeta, they will burn all of the districts," she finally says, her tone gentle but firm, "whether you help them or not. And Katniss..." She pauses as she glances up at the blinking red lights on the ceiling. "She can take care of herself." She looks back down toward me meaningfully. I notice that my heart rate is elevated, and I feel a little bit lightheaded.

We are interrupted by a clatter of noise and a young woman's sobs. Thread barks orders at his soldiers as they escort in what appears to be a new prisoner. Johana and I exchange quick glances, and both stand close to our cell doors to look out at the commotion.

It's Annie Cresta.

So Finnick really is safe. Otherwise, she wouldn't be here.

* * *

The first suit they try hangs from my body, and that's when I realize that I've lost weight. A new prep team surrounds me, readying me for the main event of the night. I know better than to ask about Portia because I just don't think I can take any other bad news at the moment. I'm trying to compartmentalize everything that is happening, and I don't know if I can be strong for Katniss if I find out that Portia is dead. I look into the mirror and see that I look like a ghost of my former self, and sigh. They are starving me to make me weak. How do they plan to explain my appearance to an audience full of Capitol fans? Fans of the star-crossed lovers of District 12.

 _They'll think I'm just depressed while mourning Katniss,_ I realize, gazing into my gaunt eyes. The dark circles from lack of sleep and stress are almost impossible to hide, and my eyes look like they're starting to glaze over.

"You'll be reunited with Everdeen soon," Thread says casually, and I can't help myself.

I whip around to face him, a wild look in my eyes. "What are you talking about?"

Thread smirks. "We're going to find her. And she'll be joining you. And you can watch each other waste away." Thread's eyes light up with satisfaction as I feel tears prickling my eyes. "You'll become so familiar with each others screams."

I move to tackle him and he simply sticks the cattle prod into my gut. I convulse on contact, dropping all of my weight to my knees with a sickening smack.

"Pathetic," Thread snarls, grabbing me around the throat. "Next time, I'll stick this in your mouth." He waves the prod at me and snickers. "Well, that is if your mouth isn't already full of Alastair."

I feel my pallor go white and my stomach churn painfully.

"Get him up," Thread orders two guards. When they pull me to my feet Thread cuffs my hands in front of me, and they lead me out of the dressing area into the dinning room.

Alastair.

He grins at me wickedly and stands, throwing his napkin down next to his plate. I can't take my eyes off of him, like I'm frozen in place, my feet heavy and hesitant. The Peacekeepers on either side of me pull me forward into the room, meeting him halfway. I can't help but squirm when he leans forward to place a kiss on my cheek.

His eyes go slightly cold, but he recovers quickly with a smile. "No hello, my pet?" His grin widens confidently as he addresses the guards. "Please, seat him there." He gestures to the seat across from his, and when the Peacekeepers wrestle me down into the chair Alastair taps a place in front of me with his knuckle. A small panel slides back to reveal and silver hook. The Peacekeepers attach my bonds to that, so that my hands are bound in front of me on the table.

Alastair snaps his fingers at an Avox who quickly places a plate in front of me. It's only then that I notice the massive feast laid out before us. Roast chicken, potatoes, mini cakes and puddings just to name a few. The aroma from my plate catches my attention and I can't help but salivate. For days I've only been given water and bread. The animal side of me - the side that wants to survive - cannot help itself.

"Please," Alastair murmurs across from me, his fingertips pressing together under his chin. "Be my guest."

It's then that I notice that we're alone. I'm conflicted between the panic that ties my stomach in knots, but also the biological pull to available sustenance. Maybe I would feel less dizzy if I had a decent meal.

I twisted my hands as best as I could to reach the plate before me. I felt humiliated, having to bow my head down to meet the chicken in my hands, stooping like an animal. But I'm so hungry that I'm seeing spots in my vision. I remember what it's like to go hungry from the days in 12 before Katniss and I won our Games, and I remind myself not to gorge myself. Just a bit of meat and potatoes should be enough. If I want to fight him off later I'll have to be stronger than I am now.

Alastair watched me hungrily, swallowing the dregs of a red wine. He barely sets it down before the Avox is refilling his glass.

"Please forgive the restraints," he glances at my hands. "I saw your Games and I'm aware of your strength." He raises his glass for another sip. "And I do enjoy watching you struggle."

I feel sick, having to make an effort to swallow the mouthful of chicken. I know I'm finished eating now, so I sit back slowly, raising my eyes to meet his. I steel myself, remembering that because of my upcoming interview they are not allowed to mark up my face. That should help me keep my wits, too, not having to suffer blows to the head.

Alastair rises, motioning to the Avox to leave us. My heart sinks at being alone with this monster. "This could be the last time I see you," he muses, plucking a grape from a bowl as he slowly makes his way down the length of the table. "See, your price sky-rocketed, which typically means that they're restricting access." He swipes a finger of whipped cream to chase down the grape, sucking on his finger suggestively. It's their way of going out with a _bang_ ," he winks at me as he emphasizes that last word.

I can't help but frown, knitting my brows together as I take in this new information. What could that mean? Are they almost done with me? What does that mean?

"Oh, no need to worry," he coos, rounding the side of the table as he saunters closer to me. "I doubt that you'll be leaving the Capitol. Once this war is over they'll pick up where they left off with you. They just need you for something else right now I suppose. That's how it works with the other victors."

I don't know whether or not to be relieved. Having zero control over what is happening doesn't look good either way, and I hate the idea of other victors being sold in this twisted version of slavery. I think of Katniss, and wonder if I could protect her from this. Another dark thought passes through my head. I don't want her to know me like this either, to know the extent of my defilement. Could she ever look at me the same way? Or would I be disgusting to her?

Alastair is beside me now, peering down with hungry eyes. "We better make this last night worthwhile," he says softly, tracing a finger across my cheek. I flinch, my restraints clanging against the table. "I know, I know. I'm not supposed to touch this face," he murmurs thoughtfully, holding my chin in his hand so that I can't flinch again. "We have to keep you pretty for Caesar."

I don't sense his other hand until its fingers laced through my hair and yank my head back. I hiss in pain as Alastair stares down into my eyes. "Not the neck either, I suppose," he muses, moving his other hand from my chin to my neck. His hand wraps around my neck, but doesn't squeeze. I feel a prick in my neck, and can't help but gasp in pain. "Shhhh," Alastair is running his fingers over my lips now. "It's just to help you relax. And keep you docile."

I feel the drug begin to work, my limps growing heavy. My eyelids droop a little, but I fight the sedative. I don't want to be unconscious around this man. My hands are released from the table's hook, and Alastair is commanding, "Get up." When I do stand the world seems like it's rocking back and forth. I fall against the table to steady myself, dishes clattering together as Alastair snickers. "Oh, steady now," he clutches at me and pushes me toward a bedroom.

 _Stay with me? Katniss's voice echoes in my head, tinged in fear from a recent nightmare._

I shake her away, wanting to keep this moment and anything to do with her separate. These two worlds cannot come together. My heart is close to breaking, thinking of where she is or if she is in pain, and I can't consider her experiencing anything remotely similar to this moment, right here.

Even though I am aware that I'm totally trapped in this situation, I feel myself digging in my heels automatically. Alastair doesn't seem to become annoyed, but rather more tantalized. I remember what he said about my struggle, darkly, but I cannot help myself. Everything has come down to instinct lately, like the human parts of me have been stripped away to only reveal a desperate, trapped creature.


	9. Chapter 9

Warning: Physical, sexual, and psychological torture. This chapter is still from the perspective of someone who has not yet dealt with their torture and assault, so much of the difficult subject matter is handled in a victim-blaming (from the torturers) and ashamed (from the victim) kind of way. This will be resolved in later chapters.

* * *

"If you have any power or any say in what they're doing or how they use you," I plead to Katniss through the Capital camera, sitting across from Caesar Flickerman who leans in, enraptured. My voice cracks tearfully, imagining her in a situation similar to mine, shivering as I imagined her with Alastair. "Please urge them to stop this war."

 _I had been brought to the interview after spending the entire evening with Alastair. The sedative he had given me took away my physical prowess, but it did not grant me the mercy of losing consciousness. "Why do you antagonize me?" He demanded after I had slurred, "Get off of me!" Alastair glared, holding my face in his hands while I pulled weakly against the cuffs behind my back. "You know I can't damage this pretty face tonight, and yet you tempt me so," he growled, shoving a handkerchief in my mouth. "You'll be doing plenty of talking for Snow tomorrow during your interview, so do save your voice, sweetie." Despite the feigned pleasantries his scowl remained unchanged._

A small camera crew is assembled in front of Caesar and I, and my guards are at the wings of it. I see Thread smirk at my last statement, meaning I must have convinced them that I'm really trying to do what they've instructed. Better than my last interview. They like me as the beaten, emotional, broken lover more than the inflamed, passionate victor that I was in the first interview.

I'm not sure what I expect to happen if the war ends. I do know that they will never release me. I'm too valuable to them, for many reasons. But maybe they will spare Katniss. She's too symbolic to the districts. Much like they've kept their word in sparing Johana for my cooperation, maybe they will keep their promise about Katniss.

I feel foolish for even hoping this. How could I really expect them to spare the Mockingjay? But I didn't have a lot of other cards to play at the moment, and anything that might protect her...or Johana, or Annie...I had to at least try.

 _Alastair poked at the firewood with an iron, sending more embers up into the chimney shaft. "Something to remember me by?" He smiled wickedly and I could smell the skin on my shoulder burn as he pressed the poker in deep. I screamed, but was unable to move away from the hot iron._

"Thank you, Peeta," Caesar pats my arm, and as he turns to the camera to round off the segment I feel the searing pain in my shoulder again.

When the cameras cut, any restraint left in how I'm being treated goes out the window. I'm grabbed immediately and yanked up from the chair, Alastair's mark seemingly sizzling all over again. Caesar even looks a bit like he's gotten whiplash from watching the sudden assault. "I'll see you, Peeta Mellark," Caesar says soberly, watching with restraint as I'm taken away. I appreciate the sentiment because it's probably the nicest thing he could say to me at the moment without becoming marked a rebel or a sympathizer. He's saving his own neck, too, and I understand that. He might have a family to protect. He's just as much a pawn in their games as I am. We just happen to have different prisons.

I'm returned to the cells at the bottom of the Training Center, and I'm immediately outraged. It's clear that Johana has been beaten, her face now black and blue and her lip split. "You said no harm!" I roared at Thread, throwing off my guards in a surprising show of strength as adrenaline pumped through my veins. I'm able to tackle him before he can raise his favorite cattle prod.

"Stand down, Tribute!" Thread roars back as my hands claw toward his neck. I'm yanked off by the guards again, and as I struggle in their grip Thread gets back to his feet. In one gesture he unholsters his baton and extends it, then he swiftly backhands a blow to my jaw. I feel a molar dislodge, and my heads is pushed back by the force of the blow until I'm staring into the bright white lights of the cell block. I can vaguely hear Johana screaming, muffled through her cell's glass walls. I feel the guards step away from me a fraction of a second before Thread is raining his baton down on me. He goes for my knees first, forcing me down, and then he attacks my back and stomach. I instinctually cradle myself into a defensive position, but the baton simply moves to my arms and legs. I open my eyes to see Johana clinging to her cell wall, watching the other two guards join in. She shakes her head at me, eyes dark with bruises.

After a few minutes it's over, and I spit up my molar and a mouthful of blood on the floor. "Get him to his cell," Thread orders the guards, who more or less drag me across the floor. I look up at Thread when he stands by the door to type in the code that locks me in. "And I was so pleased with your interview," he mutters, punching the last button. Compressed air whooshes and my door shuts.

"Peeta!" Johana calls as the guards leave the cell block. "Talk to me, Lover Boy," her usual sarcasm isn't present, only panic.

I groan and turn to face her, hissing against the throbbing bruises I can feel spreading over my body. My shoulder hurts the most, and my jaw. I'm too spent to lift my head from the floor, but I tilt it toward her and wink. Anything to help calm her down. The last thing I wanted right now was to be fussed over. I could see her shoulders relax slightly, and she rolls her eyes. "Another interview then?"

"Yeah." I look down at my suit. The dark color hid whatever blood might be on me, but it was disheveled and ripped. I took advantage of a snag and ripped a small piece of fabric and wrapped it tightly, wedging it between my cheek and the gum that had lost a molar. My mouth kept filling with blood and I didn't think the Peacekeepers were going to bring me a salt water rinse.

Johana watched me carefully. "That's not enough pressure. Keep your hand there, too." I did as she said and looked over at her. "Trust me." She grimaced and pulled her lower lip down to reveal a missing tooth on her bottom row.

"What happened?" I asked.

Johana sighed visibly. "Well, my guess is that whatever bargain you alluded to just now expired. Let me guess? You'd do what they wanted if they left me alone?" I nodded soberly and she scoffed. "So then either you failed, they don't need you anymore, or they lied. It's hard to tell with these motherfuckers."

Alastair's voice filled my head. "The guy..." I looked at her and then away again, "...from last night. He um, said something about me going off market." I suddenly felt very sick, and vomited, the makeshift gauze and more blood coloring the pool of bile.

"So the deal was null," Johana spat, rolling her eyes. "You didn't have to protect me, you know." She sounded bitter. "But thanks," she added softly. "It was only a matter of time, Peeta. They don't buy that we know nothing."

I wiped my mouth with the suit sleeve, and then eased myself up really slowly. "I don't want you to go upstairs," I said simply, shrugging the jacket off with a lot of effort. I ripped a new bandage for my mouth and ripped off a sleeve as well, just incase I had more bleeding to tend to. Then I laid the jacket over the vomit, at least stifling the smell. The jacket was wasted anyway.

"I don't suppose that you want to talk about it," Johana stated, slumping down to the floor of her cell but still remaining by the door where we could see each other. "So let's move on. There's really no need to torture yourself with it - they have enough other torture in store."

* * *

We were feed crackers and water on this new regimen, all pleasantries gone. Avoxes were in charge of bringing the food, and they would type in a code that would open a small window at the bottom of our doors that I had not noticed before. The Avox would slide in the tray and cup, and remove it later.

Thread and the guards picked up the pace on the beatings. I was forced to watch as Johana was shocked and interrogated. When I looked away they treated her worse, in their sick, twisted way of making sure I would pay attention. They always started with Johana, but I wasn't sure exactly why. When they left Johana hypothesized that it was because they thought I was the one to break, and if they beat me first I wouldn't be conscious for her pain.

They liked to shock Johana, but not me. Thread seemed to enjoy drawing heavy inspiration from my time upstairs. He would order the guards to strip me, which hurt me more than I would have liked to show.

"Up on the wall," Thread ordered, and the guards manhandled me over to the leather straps along the wall of my cell. They secured both of my hands above my head, so that I was facing the wall. I hated standing there naked and vulnerable, but at least I wasn't having to look anyone in the eyes.

"Oh, look at this one," Thread boasted, jabbing a baton into my shoulder. I flinched automatically away from the touch, understanding that he was gesturing to the mark Alastair had burned into me. "Looks like he belongs to someone." Thread slid the baton down from my shoulder toward my hips. "Look at these scratches." He must have been tracing them.

I felt humiliated, angling my body flush to the wall in an attempt to escape the baton, tears springing to my eyes. I prayed silently that Johana was unconscious from her beating and wasn't watching.

I felt the cattle prod press into my spine seconds before the shock rang through my body. "Flinch away from me again," Thread warned as the shock started to dissipate. "Now where were we," he mused, the baton back on my back. I couldn't help but flinch and moments later I clenched my teeth through another shock. "What did I say?!" Thread demanded, pressing the baton into my back again. I held my breath and put my feet shoulder width apart, tensing my body so that I could override my instinct to flinch.

"Good," Thread observed. "Now that we've established that, tell me what you know about the rebellion."

I swallowed, furrowing my brow as I anticipated more torture because I didn't know anything. "I don't know anything," I answered honestly, but knew it wouldn't be good enough.

"Get me the hammer," Thread told someone, and I felt lightheaded. The hammer? "One blow from this hammer and I can break any bone that I want, so I'll ask again," Thread seethed. "What. Do. You. Know."

"I don't..." I didn't get to finish my sentence. I felt a sickening crack in my left forearm and I couldn't hold back a scream. I could see that though my wrist was still secured in the cuff, my arm bent between my elbow and my wrist. Dizziness washed over me, as Thread grabbed a hold of it. I screamed, pleading for him to let go.

"Tell me what you know and I will."

When I didn't answer he squeezed, and I roared. I felt like fainting, drooping so that my weight was mostly supported by my right wrist. "I said don't flinch," Thread reminded me and the cattle prod was shoved into my right shoulder and electrified.

 _I need you,_ _Katniss's voice floated to the surface and I felt the sea wind at the beach of the Quarter Quell graze my face._

Thread took my chin in his hand, forcing my face toward his. My eyes were squeezed shut, so he barked, "Look at me!" I hated the tear that slipped out when I did.

"Do you want this to happen to Miss Everdeen?" He taunted, a sparkle in his cold, blue eyes, and more tears came to my eyes at the idea.

"On his knees," he ordered the guards, who obliged, taking me down from the wall and forcing me to my knees. I couldn't stop a scream when they twisted my arms behind my back. They cuffed my hands behind my back, and this position was one I knew all too well. Thread stood in front of me, stroking his baton symbolically. "What about this? Would you like for Miss Everdeen to be taken upstairs?"

I panted, sweat beading on my forehead from the extraordinary amount of pain I was in.

He grabbed my throat. "We recorded you, you know."

My skin must've blanched more than it already had. "No..." I whispered in disbelief.

"We know what kind of whore you are."

I felt heat crawling up my neck and I felt faint. I felt my peripheral vision decreasing, focusing in on a narrow tunnel with Thread's face at the end. My heart rate picked up, and I felt goosebumps all over my legs and arms. My limbs started to shake, a panic attack rearing its ugly head. I felt claustrophobic, like my body could not hold enough air and was some foreign thing that my consciousness was floating above, yet was trapped by it.

Thread smiled. _Jackpot,_ he must have been thinking. "Bring it in," he told someone, his voice sounding to me like it was underwater. Thread was passed a small screen, around the size of a notebook, and he held it at my eye level in front of his waist.

 _On the screen I saw two men, standing in the penthouse bathroom. I was between them, my eyes wide with fear and panic as one held me and the other wrapped a leather belt around my wrists. I was fighting against them as best as I could, telling them to stop. Ross. Michael. Their names surfaced from somewhere deep down, and I watched my own face smashed into the screen. The camera must have been inside of the bathroom's mirror. The mirror smashed with my forehead's impact, and on screen my eyes drooped a little. I saw the man called Michael grab my hips from behind, and thrust his pelvis toward me, my head smacking into the glass again._

I tried to turn my face away from the screen, looking down at my prison cell floor, my vision blurry from the tears that had surfaced. "Nope," Thread warned, backhanding my jaw several times in a row. I felt my head swimming, and he was able to easily pull my face back toward the screen. "Tell me you deserve it," he parroted Alastair's words to me, and that's when I totally lost it.

The panic attack flexed its muscles as the memories I had lost from Portia's pill can flooding back. I was hyperventilating, and it felt like every nerve in my body had turned into fireworks. But not in a fun way. I sank further to the floor, wishing I could fulfill the instinct to grab at my hair and yank it out, but my hands were still bound behind me. That probably wasn't helping the feeling of being trapped, nor was being surrounded on all sides by Peacekeepers.

"No!" I roared at Thread as he wrestled my face back toward the screen, but I stopped fighting so much when I realized that he was showing a clip from my first games, when I laid helpless and injured in the cave and Katniss leaned down to kiss me. I could feel the wires in my head getting crossed, my arousal from seeing Katniss and I being intimate confusingly present with the memories of my experiences upstairs with Michael, Ross...Alastair.

Katniss had drugged me. So had Alastair.

 _No!_

I tried to throw the thought out as fast as it had appeared. With Katniss it had been different. It was about survival, it was to save me. I trust Katniss.

 _Stay with me,_ I heard Katniss's voice from the train echo in my head.

 _Stay with me,_ I heard Alastair command, forbidding me from passing out, cuffing me to the bed.

"Peeta!" Johana screamed somewhere. It was all so foggy. I heard her plea, "Stay with me!" just as darkness crept around my vision and I passed out.


End file.
